


Misguided Darts and Condom Rings

by eeyore9990



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Epistolary, M/M, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-31
Updated: 2008-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 13:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5871496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to deal with the pressures of being a hero, Harry decides to explore the world.  This is the account of his travels and various adventures in his own words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misguided Darts and Condom Rings

**Grimmauld Place, London September 1, 1998**

It feels odd, not rushing off to King's Cross Station today to catch the Hogwarts Express. I just can't do it, though. I can't make myself go back. Not yet. The memories are still too fresh. I need… something different.

I just don't know what.

~~A good shag would be nice.~~

Bugger. I need to get a self-correcting Quick Quotes Quill, I think. Of course, no one else will ever read this.

Does it matter?

All right, then. A good shag would be nice.

**Grimmauld Place, London September 28, 1998**

God! I can't step out the door without someone (fucking Skeeter mostly) shoving a quill in my face. I came home today and destroyed the new ones Hermione picked up for me from Scrivenshaft's just to make myself feel better.

Now I need new quills. Again.

When will this end? I want to scream at them all, but that would just keep them coming back. Kingsley says I need patience, Hermione says I need to ignore them, and Ron says I need a good shag.

Hah. A good shag really would be nice.

**Grimmauld Place, London November 2, 1998**

I can't take this anymore. I wonder, if I write a huge note that says "Goodbye cruel world" will they think I've offed myself?

I have to get away. Even a good shag won't cure me now. Not that I could get one. I should feel bad for Ginny, but at least they're leaving her alone now that she's back with Dean.

Yeah, true love, that.

I have a map of Britain. I think I'm just going to pin it to the wall and throw a dart to see where to go.

…

Threw the dart. I could cry. It landed on London.

…

Okay, this time I missed the map completely. I need a map of Europe, I think. Less chance for missing.

…

Apparently I'm going to Ireland. Or rather, some spot about a kilometre off the northern shore of Ireland. Wait. Isn't there some political trouble in Northern Ireland? Hmmm. I don't want to run into another war. Oh well. Am I a wizard or aren't I?

**Ballyliffin, Ireland November 5, 1998**

Ireland is beautiful. Very green and rocky, which is odd. But it manages to be both at once. It's very pastoral, with flocks of fat sheep as far as the eye can see. There's not many people here now. It's apparently the off-season and the town is more alive during tourist season. I'm quite happy to have visited now, though.

I went to a local pub tonight. Everyone here sounds like Seamus. I kept turning around, expecting to see him, only to realise at the last minute it wasn't him. I'll have to owl him while I'm here. I think he went home to spend time with his Mum after all that happened.

Oh, one of the locals invited me to play a round or two of golf with him tomorrow. I think I will. Apparently there's a rather famous golf-course here. 

I wonder if Uncle Vernon still plays golf?

I wonder why there are no shaggable birds in this town. Is everyone here over the age of sixty?

**Ballyliffin, Ireland November 10, 1998**

I'm going to hell. Really. 

I finally met a shaggable bird in this town. I swear we're the only two not ready to pick out a grave plot (though there are days I wonder about myself). She's gorgeous. Long red hair, green eyes…

Oh, yeah. Her name? Lily.

I have to get out of this town.

Of course, this brings to mind Ginny. Sure she had brown eyes, but… do I have some strange mother-fetish? I'm definitely going to hell. 

I met Lily (so weird to write that!) at the golf-course clubhouse today. There was this mirror there and I caught our reflection out of the corner of my eye. I swear, for a minute I thought it was my parents. 

Creepy. GOD!

Anyway, I think it's time I pull out my new map (of the world, heh) and see where to go next. I paid my bill with the manager already, so all I have to do is pack and go.

…

Middle of the Atlantic Ocean on the first try.

…

Oh, lovely. Pacific Ocean this time.

…

FUCK! ~~How many oceans ARE there?!~~ Okay, so there's five oceans. I'm going to keep my eyes open this time and aim for Europe. I know it's not completely random that way, but I'm not going to spend a week treading water, thanks.

…

Huh. Amsterdam. Okay, sounds like fun.

**Amsterdam, The Netherlands November 12, 1998**

Wow. There are a LOT of young people here. This couldn't be more different than Ireland if it were on another planet. Actually, I'm beginning to wonder if this IS another planet. 

Time to go sight-seeing.

**Amsterdam, The Netherlands November 13, 1998**

I think I want to stay here forever and never leave. 

There are naked birds EVERYWHERE. I walked down this street tonight and there were people FUCKING in a shop front!

This is FANTASTIC!!

**Amsterdam, The Netherlands November 15, 1998**

I'm SO buying a house here. I need to find the wizarding centre so I can get more money.

I've spent everything I brought with me already. It's such a waste, but who cares?! It's my money!

**Amsterdam, The Netherlands November 16, 1998**

Okay, so I walked down another of those dodgy streets again tonight (Seriously, the fucking going on! Something tells me Sirius would have loved this.) and I must have inhaled something I didn't mean to because…

I swear I saw Draco Malfoy. IN one of the windows.

Fucking a bloke.

No, no. HE wasn't fucking a bloke.

A bloke was fucking him.

I think I need a sobriety potion, just in case. Because there's no way in hell Draco Malfoy is in Amsterdam taking it up the arse.

…

I checked the mirror and my pupils look okay, but I'm not taking any chances.

**Amsterdam, The Netherlands November 17, 1998**

Okay, so apparently thinking I saw Draco last night has fucked with my head. I keep seeing him everywhere. No, I mean, not him, obviously. Just, I constantly see his hair out of the corner of my eye and when I turn… no one's there.

Of course, there was this one time that I turned really fast and saw someone turning a corner—with Malfoy's hair.

This bears investigating.

**Amsterdam, The Netherlands November 19, 1998**

It's official. Voldemort broke my mind.

Oh, God.

I don't think I can write about it.

**Amsterdam, The Netherlands November 19, 1998 (Two hours later)**

Okay, so. I can't sleep now. Maybe if I write it down, it'll get out of my head and I'll be able to sleep.

God.

Okay, so. I had a dream. It was… awful. AWFUL. 

~~Only it wasn't SO awful, obviously, because I came all over myself.~~

~~I fucked~~

~~I dreamed~~

Oh, God, I can't do this.

…

No, okay. I dreamed it was me fucking Draco.

See? Undeniable proof that my mind is broken. At least I know Neville will visit me at St Mungo's as long as his parents are there.

**Amsterdam, The Netherlands November 20, 1998**

Oh, God. I'm seeing him everywhere.

I have to get out of here.

…

America. Wyoming? No idea how you pronounce that, but as soon as I settle my bill, I'm catching the first trans-continental portkey out of this fucking city.

**Cheyenne, Wyoming, America November 25, 1998**

It took me five days of travelling to get here. The worst part was that I had to pass back through London. The other alternative would have been two days longer and once the dart landed, I couldn't stand not to be here.

I'm exhausted, so I don't even know if this is readable. Is readable a word?

It's only noon, but I'm going to bed.

**Cheyenne, Wyoming, America November 25, 1998 (Eleven hours later)**

~~Am I still dreaming?~~

~~I just fucked the bloke from the New York portkey station.~~

~~I thi--~~

**Cheyenne, Wyoming, America November 26, 1998**

I think I was writing in my sleep last night. Weird.

Umm, I scratched out everything I wrote. It didn't make sense.

I certainly don't remember having those sorts of dreams about that bloke. I was really tired, that's all.

I'm going to go see what there is to see here.

**Cheyenne, Wyoming, America November 26, 1998 (Three hours later)**

Huh. This is apparently a holiday for the Americans. All the shops are closed, so I went out of town and wandered around a bit. Thank God for Apparition because I don't think I could have found my way back on my own.

It's beautiful here. It sort of reminds me of Ireland, only… different. 

The people I did meet had a very unusual accent, sort of flat and slow. They kept asking me to say different things. They're a strange lot.

There's a huge television in the lobby downstairs with a few blokes watching some sort of sports game on it. I think I'll go down there and join them.

**Cheyenne, Wyoming, America November 29, 1998**

I should have known when the dart landed on this place the first time I threw it that something was wrong!

Oh my God, where to start?

Okay, so first, I went to watch that game, right? Only it was confusing and slow—kept stopping every two seconds and then there was the final two minutes that lasted thirty! Can they not tell time here?—and I fell asleep. The other blokes blamed that on the turkey we all ate—there was WAY too much food at the buffet.

Anyway, another bloke told me that while I'm here I have to go to the ~~rodey oh~~ ~~rodio~~ rodeo. (I looked it up. Hermione would be so proud.) 

The first rodeo after the holiday (Thanksgiving, though I'm not sure what they were giving thanks for, other than turkey and that game?) was last night. It started off pretty fun, even if there was a rather horrid stench. It was indoors, which was nice since it was really cold outside. 

I've never seen people wear denims as tight as they did there, especially the birds. They were mostly quite pretty, and there were no redheads, so that was good. 

I went with the bloke who told me about the rodeos, and he knew some of the cowboys (I didn't think about it before, but it's nice that I got to meet some real cowboys while I was here…especially since I'm never coming back!) so we went to speak with them while we waited.

There was a lot of pointless horseback riding around the arena carrying all sorts of different flags. Only one was the American flag, so I'm not certain what the rest of it was for. That's when the idiots came out.

First there were cowboys riding insane horses. I still don't know why they'd do something so stupid.

Then there were the ones who chased the young male cows. And tied them up.

I think I discovered something about cowboys. They're into weird sex stuff. No, really. See, they all (or rather, most of them) have this wear ring in their right back pocket of their denims. It's a fairly large ring.

I asked David, the bloke I was with, what that was from. He said it was from the condoms the cowboys used. Now, the only thing out there that had a cock big enough for that size condom was… the bulls. After watching them tie up the young bulls and then ride the full-sized ones… I just don't know. They're very strange here, did I mention?

After we left the rodeo, we went back to David's room—he's one of the blokes who works with the insane horses, which was why he was in town—and he had this bottle of truly awful alcohol. Firewhisky is the finest liquor in comparison. Tequila. 

I will never drink tequila again. I swear. If I do, may I lose all my magic forever.

This is the part that is difficult to write down. After we finished the first half of the bottle of tequila, David… kissed me. 

The worst part was, I kissed him back. 

And then we… well, it was odd and rather uncomfortable, but we got off on each other, through our clothes.

Does that make me queer? 

Regardless, I don't think I can stay here any longer. I'm not going to go with the first choice, this time, no matter where it is.

…

Well, I won't be visiting Melbourne, Australia. Which is probably a good thing because I think it's the middle of summer. And from what Hermione said, it gets really hot there.

…

Milan, Italy. Back to Europe. At least Europeans are sane.

**Milan, Italy December 2, 1998**

Ugh. No more trans-continental travel on this trip. I hate how tired it leaves me. I feel better for being back in Europe, though. 

Going to bed now.

**Milan, Italy December 2, 1998**

I have no idea why I even wrote in this before going to bed last night. What a waste of ink. Anyway, I'm here in Milan and the city is beautiful. The weather is cool, but not too cold to go out and walk around a bit before dinner.

Which I think I will do now. There are some fascinating buildings along the same street that my hotel is located on.

**Milan, Italy December 3, 1998**

Italy is perfect. The food is excellent, the women are beautiful. I think the episode with David was simply a product of drunkenness because I can still fully appreciate the beauty of the women. 

Had a nice wank today. The blonde goddess two doors down was out on her balcony in this see-through bit of long lingerie this morning, drinking her coffee. I don't think she caught me staring.

Went for a walk after my wank and explored some of the area. Ran into Blaise Zabini. Literally. He was turning the corner at the same time as me coming from the other direction.

He invited me to dinner with his mother and some friends tonight.

I'm not sure if I'm going to go or not. I wonder if it's safe? Who are the friends?

**Milan, Italy December 4, 1998**

I went.

"Friends" apparently means Draco and Narcissa Malfoy and a few other "old" families. "Old" = pureblood, of course. I made sure to mention as many times as I could that my mum was Muggleborn.

I don't think they'll be inviting me back. I'll try to work up some disappointment over that.

**Milan, Italy December 5, 1998**

Draco Malfoy came to my hotel today. I wasn't here (thank GOD) but he left a message.

I've cast all the spells I can think of on it, but it'd be just like him to poison it using Muggle means.

I think I'll just throw it away.

Seeing him again the other day made the dreams come back.

**Milan, Italy December 5, 1998 (Four hours later)**

I went downstairs after burning Malfoy's message—no, I didn't read it. He was there. In the lobby. 

I almost just turned around and came back upstairs, but I will never let him make me run away.

He invited me to dinner. 

From the way he was smirking, I wonder if he knows about the dreams? Oh, God.

**Milan, Italy December 6, 1998**

I went to dinner with Malfoy. I didn't realise it would just be the two of us, but… it was. He asked me if I'd been in Amsterdam last month.

Oh, God, was that him?!

I know my life has become weird when I find myself having a regular conversation about nothing at all with Draco Malfoy over a glass of wine older than both of us put together.

**Milan, Italy December 7, 1998**

I think Malfoy is following me.

He was at one of the shops down the street today. We went to lunch together. Well, actually… I invited him. Mostly because he bought dinner the other night and I didn't like feeling that I owed him.

Why am I still here?

**Milan, Italy December 10, 1998**

It's been a very eventful few days. When Draco found out that I hadn't ever been to Italy before, he decided I had to explore with someone who knew the place. He and Zabini have been dragging me about.

Zabini is getting married in the summer. Why does that make me feel so weird? Also, he's marrying Pansy Parkinson!

Well, they'll make nice pure-blood babies, so I'm sure they'll be happy. Ugh.

Zabini and Draco are almost too much to take together. They're both so bloody smug and superior. I just want to hex them sometimes.

I've learned a lot though, especially about Slytherins. I think it's a really good thing I talked the Hat out of sorting me there back in first year. I'd have killed someone by now.

I have to say, seen with those who know the area Italy is even more amazing than I thought. 

Oh, also? Draco couldn't have been the one I saw in Amsterdam. He was chatting up a bird at our meeting place today.

**Milan, Italy December 12, 1998**

Zabini has been away for the past few days. Draco is a lot easier to get along with when there's no one else around, though he's also a lot more intense. It was strange.

I also think I know what's happening with my dreams. I've been having them continually since coming here, but they're changing a bit. They started out with me just fucking Draco and now… well, they're different.

I picked up a Muggle book about dream analysis the other day while we were out and it had some interesting theories in it. Apparently fucking someone in your dreams does NOT mean that you want to have sex with them. 

I can't even express my relief in words.

**Potter's Room Sometime before Christmas, Post-Inaugural Shag**

Potter, it's a good thing you can shag. Otherwise I'd have to put you out of your misery. 

You should put a warning on this journal: "Contents may induce the need for mass-suicide." 

This needs bullet points: 

• There is no doubt that you have a mommy-fetish, Potter. 

• Repeat after me: bi-sexuality does exist. 

• I knew someone was following me around Amsterdam! Also, you shouldn't look down on sex in a store-front. It was amazing. 

• Potter, my God, what is filling the space between your ears? That bloke was joking, for fuck's sake. They don't carry condoms in their rear pockets. Those are cock-rings. 

• Stop hitting me. Of course I'm reading your journal. You should feel privileged. 

• You are such a girl. 

• I didn't realise it was possible to speak in ALL CAPS. Ah, I see. Shout in ALL CAPS, then. 

• You are NOT wearing that to dinner. Speaking of which, Mother is dying to get her hands on your wardrobe. Expect to be without appropriate attire for a few days while she uses your money to provide you with a new one. 

• That means you'll have to simply spend time laying about in inappropriate att— 

**Potter's Room Post-Second Shag (Embarrassingly short amount of time later)**

Strike me dead if I ever complain about Gryffindor impulsiveness again.

\--D. M.

**Author's Note:**

> [In case you find yourself confused over the 4th bullet point.](http://www.tfproject.org/tfp/showthread.php?t=115201)


End file.
